Serendipity
by aidyr
Summary: Eight knows she has feelings for Three. It's frustrating and confusing, but the feelings are definitely there. There's just too much about the inkling to love. She's not confident in her abilities to pursue an actual relationship though... Well, maybe everyone's favorite MC could be of assistance? Pearl is better at this than people give her credit for. - Also published on AO3 -
1. Tomorrow

Eight didn't understand what exactly she was feeling. Or… well she did, but she rather wished she didn't. The feeling was bound to cause nothing but problems for herself and others. Yet still, she couldn't help the overwhelming swell of affection she felt whenever she'd talk to Three. The concept of crushes, or romance in general, had been a distant idea with no barring on life in the Octarian barracks. Or at least, it wasn't a priority to them. No time for such trivial matters when their very way of life was being threatened day to day. No time for kissing when a bloodthirsty Inkling could pop in at any moment to steal their power, their family, or… or many other horrific and misleading things they'd been told about Inklings.

How ironic, Eight thought, that her first crush on the surface be on the one and only Agent 3 of the SquidBeak Splatoon. Three, the feisty green inkling single handedly responsible for infiltrating their forces, taking on near about every soldier in Octo Valley, and defeating DJ Octavio with relative ease. Though truthfully, Agent 4's recent(ish) mission to Cephalon HQ had proved how… questionably competent the guy could actually be. To be taken down twice in the exact same way spoke volumes of his adaptability and abilities as a strategist. Don't misunderstand, years of intense propaganda consumption still affected the way Eight regarded Octavio. She still respected him (much to the disdain of Three, who frankly, couldn't be less done with his shit,) and still saw him as a worthy combatant but… even rose colored lenses couldn't protect him from objective reality; the reality that it was astounding he'd try attacking with easily reflectable fists a second damn time.

Wait, Eight was getting off track. Back to her frustrating crush. Why was it frustrating? Well… several reasons including but not limited to: There was no way Three felt the same way, if she found out how Eight felt everything would be really awkward forever, Eight was still sorting herself out on the surface and throwing romance in the mix would complicate everything, she was still dealing with some of the emotional aftermath of all the Kamabo and DeepSea Metro nonsense and she wasn't even sure she was able to pursue a relationship…

Damn these butterflies in her stomach. Damn the blush tinging her cheeks. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Three was grumpy, and sarcastic, and tired. She was rough on the edges and secretly really fragile. She had a lot of baggage and was sometimes difficult to talk to. But… She was also a huge sweetheart. Secretly, of course. She kept her true self under wraps most the time, but when her emotional self did show, Eight was simply swept away by how gentle and caring the older cephalopod could be.

Not to mention how pretty she was, like wow. You'd think someone who got shot at for a living wouldn't have such soft skin or beautiful eyes but… damn it, damn it, damn it, stop.

Eight breathed a tired sigh and stared up at the ceiling. She'd woken up about an hour ago - nightmares were a bitch to deal with - and hadn't much to do but wait patiently for Three to wake up. Which, unfortunately for the octoling, wouldn't be for quite a while longer.

Pulling out her phone - a device which Three had insisted on buying for her despite Eight adamantly assuring her she didn't need too… especially given Eight's iffy feelings regarding phones in general - she checked the time. It was about three forty in the morning…

Ugh.

Well, while she had her phone out, she figured she may as well use it to pass the time. It could take her mind off of Three, or Kamabo, or Octavio, or the many many things she didn't want to be thinking about.

Let's see here…

She scrolled through some of the applications she'd been told to install. Three had put some "video games" on there for her; a form a inkling entertainment. They were pretty fun, Eight supposed. Though she wasn't very good at them. There was essential stuff like clocks, calendars, calculators and so forth. Nothing worth looking at now. Then there was… Inkstagram.

Three hadn't been the one to insist she get this particular program. That had been Pearl and Marina, saying it was a better way to keep in touch than the old chat log they'd been using in the Metro. Plus, Marina had informed, it was a good time killer. Three hadn't seemed thrilled about it, saying something along the lines of "Only a couple weeks on the surface and you're already brainwashing her with shitty social media garbage." Which had been a frightening thing to hear. The last time she'd encountered brainwashing was combat against sanitized Octarians and a temporarily possessed Agent 3. Which had been, for lack of better words, absolutely horrific.

Of course, she'd been informed that Inkstagram was not something designed to erase one's free will, (though Three would beg to differ,) but rather, a platform for talking to people and sharing pictures. Which Three hated because she's Three and she's a grump who hates a lot of things.

Which was pretty fair, really.

Eight opened the app and… she didn't understand anything she was looking at. Too many people and things she didn't care about, too many dumb comments, just too much on the screen. Pearl and Marina had already taken it upon themselves to create an account for her, so that was already taken care of. All there was now was to scroll mindlessly through her "feed," and wait for morning to come.

A few minutes in, and she heard a little ding notification. At first it confused her, but then she recalled a similar sound alerting her to the presence of new chat logs that she'd read underground. Figuring it was something similar, she searched for a moment to find where one might go to read entries.

Her search brought her to the top right of her screen, which when tapped, brought up some kind of request.

 ** _MC_Princess wants to send you a message._**

There was an accept and a deny button. Eight hadn't anything better to do, so figured, why not? She hit accept.

 ** _MC_Princess: Holy shit, Eight? What're you up to this late?_**

 ** _MC_Princess: Sorry, I just saw that you were online and like…_**

 ** _MC_Princess: Whatever. How's it hangin' kiddo? This is Pearl, btw._**

Eight hadn't ever practiced typing on this tiny, virtual keyboard so it took her a few minutes, but eventually she managed to get out a good reply.

 _ **Agent8: Uh… not much I guess? Couldn't sleep.**_

 _ **Agent8: Why are you awake? If you don't mind my asking.**_

 _ **MC_Princess: Ah, me and Rina were up pretty late workshopping a new bop. It took for fucking ever, but this shit is gonna be fire. The bae fell asleep about 30 minutes ago, and I'm just about wrapping up.**_

Eight furrowed her brow while she read the reply. She'd known Pearl for months now, yet still, she could barely decipher what in the name of Zapfish she was on about sometimes. Not that Eight minded her hip, fresh lingo. It could be fairly amusing. Plus, she was extremely fond of the idol duo, and enjoyed talking to them immensely, regardless of how much she could or couldn't understand them.

Though… she was fond of them in a much different way than she was fond of Three. She saw them as maternal, almost. Which was actually really, really weird to think about. Eight's memories were still fuzzy and partially put together, but distant recollections of an Octarian called "mom" gave her an aching, nostalgic feeling.

 ** _Agent8: If you say so._**

 ** _Agent8: Also what is a "the bae"?_**

 ** _MC_Princess: I forget you've lived underground your whole life._**

 ** _MC_Princess: Marina is "the bae." It basically just means she's my girlfriend._**

 _ **Agent8: I see…**_

Something then dawned on the young octoling. Something she should've considered ages ago. Pearl and Marina know about romance. Plus Marina is an Octarian refugee just like her, dating an inkling who, according to Maria, was too good to be true. They could offer some insight into Eight's problem… Although Marina was asleep, and Eight didn't wish to wake her. Though the older octoling's mature - and far more Octarian - perspective would've been appreciated, Eight wanted answers, now.

 _ **Agent8: Hey Pearl…? Could I ask you about something?**_

 _ **MC_Princess: Shoot**_

Okay… Eight took a deep breath and began steadily typing. The combination of being inexperienced with text, and unsure how to correctly ask what needed to be asked, resulted in a pretty long while before she got out her response.

 _ **Agent8: Okay so… you know how I've been staying with Three?**_

 _ **MC_Princess: Yeah?**_

 _ **Agent8: Er… well like…**_

 _ **MC_Princess: She didn't do something did she? I mean, I trust her and she seems cool I guess, but I swear to Cod if she does anything to hurt you.**_

Definitely maternal, Eight thought warmly.

 _ **Agent8: No nothing like that. Actually… so… you know how Marina and you are together? How do you… y'know?**_

 _ **Agent8: Or like… How did you know how you felt? Or… How did you know you wanted to pursue it?**_

 _ **MC_Princess: Um…?**_

 _ **MC_Princess: Wait…**_

 _ **MC_Princess: WAIT**_

 _ **MC_Princess: WAIT A DAMN FUCKING MINUTE**_

 _ **MC_Princess: EIGHT DO YOU HAVE A THING FOR THREE?**_

 _ **MC_Princess: Oooh shiiiit you do don't you? I should've known something was up. She looks at you like you're a priceless artifact. You're both so obviously into it! Damn I'm oblivious.**_

That simple statement brought back a lot of Eight's confusing, conflicting emotions. Three looked at her like that? Really? No, that wasn't possible. At first, Eight hadn't even thought the older girl liked her at all. She was sure Three only tolerated her in her home out of necessity. Of course, as the weeks went by, Eight had more than accepted that Three genuinely cared about her as a friend, (for whatever reason,) but no way in hell did those feelings transcend wholesome, platonic, affection.

But there was something else there. A spark of hope. It was small… but it was something. A flicker of beautiful light in the darkness, which for a mere brief moment provided warmth and respite from the shadows and the doubts which plagued her mind. But only for a moment.

 _ **Agent8: Really? She looks at me special? I haven't noticed anything…**_

 _ **MC_Princess: I'll take your lack of rebuttal as confirmation that you do in fact, have a crush on that dork.**_

 _ **MC_Princess: And hell yeah man. Me and Rina never thought too much of it, but yeah. Not to mention how you look at her. You're like a clingy puppy.**_

 _ **MC_Princess: Now that I think about it, you two would be pretty cute together. Hell yeah, you should ask her out. Just know that if she breaks your heart, I'm grabbing my dualies and hunting her sorry ass down.**_

Eight blinked, waves of heat were filling every inch of her body. Her chest felt warm, her stomach fluttered, and her face burned with bright pink blush. Appealing though the idea was, she couldn't just up and ask Three on a date, could she? For one, she hardly knew how dates operated. Romance, as said, wasn't a priority back in the Octarian military. What little of it there was, it likely worked a little different than inkling romance. Cultural differences and all that. Besides, she'd come to Pearl for serious advice, not blind support. Eight felt her gut tighten, and nervously she started to reply.

 _ **Agent8: I'll admit, that makes me happy to hear… more the parts where we're cute together and she looks at me nice. Less so you hunting her down. But um….**_

 _ **Agent8: The reason I ask though… is cause I don't know if I should… ? Or like… I don't know if I even can…**_

 _ **MC_Princess: What do you mean?**_

It was so hard to explain. But Eight tried her best to put her feelings into words.

 _ **Agent8: I don't know it's just… How do we even know she feels the same? If she doesn't it could mess everything up. And I don't know if I trust myself in a relationship. I still need to work myself out I can't just… go after someone else, right? Besides… Octatians aren't exactly known for romance.**_

Five, terrible mind-numbing minutes passed with no reply from Pearl. Had she fallen asleep maybe? It was possible… glancing at the time, it was now around four in the morning. Maybe she decided that Eight was beyond her help? No, Pearl cared about her, she wouldn't just… give up like that. Damn, Eight needed to get it together, she could feel her nerves fizzling out with each passing moment.

Then, a sound like an angel's choir; a message notification.

 _ **MC_Princess: Eight you listen and you listen good, aight? I'm not usually one for real talkin' but damn it, Marina's asleep and she's too cute to wake up so I'll temporarily take over as the adult-y one. You need to give yourself more credit, kid. First of all, from an outsider's perspective, all I can say is Three looks VERY lovey dovey when she's with you. I don't talk to her much one on one, but she's kinda a grumpy asshole and when she's with you she seems… Happy? And remember that time someone called you a war criminal and she deadass threatened to break their face in with her heel? Yeah. Think about it. And don't even start with this "I'm not good enough" or "I can't trust myself" garbage. You're a hella fucking sweet girl, and you'd never hurt Three on purpose, and I'm willing to bet my many music awards she's more understanding than you're making her out to be. Chick is like… a secret agent or some shit, you need patience and perseverance for that nonsense. I'd understand if you needed to sort yourself out first, or if you just weren't interested at the moment, but that doesn't seem like the case. And as for that last steaming pile of BS like… You're a really nice, awesome girl, Eight. And Marina is one of the most amazing people I've ever known. High-key, saying shit like "Octarians aren't known to love" or whatever the fuck, sounds like the sort of speciesist propaganda old turf war nutjobs spew.**_

 _ **MC_Princess: Sorry, that was pretty long, huh? Didn't mean to legit write an essay. But for real, you're a great girl and anyone would be lucky to have you.**_

Reading Pearl's doozy of a reply had started as nerve wracking. But with each passing word, Eight found herself feeling lighter and lighter, giddier and more cared for than she's ever felt in her entire life. She had friends in the barracks. At least… she thinks she did. Thinking about old loved ones always came with a fair bit of pain, so she never tried too hard to remember. But this… Odd, Eight thought, that one can cry yet be totally happy. She's no stranger to tears but… these tears didn't feel too bad. She read the message again over and over, and each time she did her smile grew wider, her tears fell fresher and she felt so much warmer.

What a lovely feeling it was, to have people who care.

 _ **MC_Princess: Yo Eight? You good? C'mon girl, don't leave me on read like that.**_

Eight noticed with mild amusement, that she'd spent over five minutes reading Pearl's words of kindness. Opting not to leave her good friend waiting, Eight starting typing.

 _ **Agent8: Sorry, didn't mean to go quiet. Just… that meant a lot to me. Like wow, you don't even know. Like I'm for real crying right now. In a good way though. Which is kind of weird, I didn't know you could do that.**_

 _ **MC_Princess: Lol, don't go sobbing on me. You feel better though? Think you wanna try testing the waters with Three? It's cool if you seriously don't want to. But all the reasons you gave were full of crap.**_

Eight smiled, a fuzzy blush crept over her cheeks; filling them with pinkish honeyglow.

 _ **Agent8: I think… I think maybe I am. Thank you Pearl, for everything.**_

 _ **Agent8: I'll talk to you later. It's late, you should be asleep.**_

 _ **MC_Princess: Word. Well… let me know what you end up doing. I'm sure Marina will wanna know what's up too.**_

 _ **Agent8: Sounds good.**_

 _ **MC_Princess: And Eight?**_

 _ **Agent8: ?**_

 _ **MC_Princess: You rock, kid. For real. I ain't just saying that. You're like… one of my and Marina's favorite people and I know for a fact Three thinks so too. Go kiss the girl and on the day of your wedding you'd better fucking thank me.**_

 _ **MC_Princess: Night Eight. Good luck.**_

Eight was only vaguely aware of what a wedding was, but still, that felt really embarrassing to read. Ignoring that however, that whole conversation had been really, really nice. Helpful too. Whatever Three's issue with Inkstagram was, Eight couldn't tell. Because that was pretty great.

Filled with newfound determination, the octoling set about imagining all the possible places she could ask Three on a date. Where should they go? How should she ask? What would she wear? What would Three wear? The inkling wasn't much for dressing fancy, but Eight didn't care. She'd look adorable in anything. Squealing like a lovestruck schoolgirl, Eight hugged a pillow tight. She was feeling pretty grateful to the nightmare that had woke her.

Of course, nightmares sucked but…without it she wouldn't have grabbed her phone. She wouldn't have talked to Pearl. She was actually going to do it.

Tomorrow, she was going to ask Three on a date.


	2. Yesterday

Waking up to the sun's devilish light blaring through haphazardly closed blinds was always a less than perfect way to start the morning. She should really invest in some blackout curtains, but that shit is expensive and Three doesn't have to cash to spend on anything non essential. You'd think being an SBS agent would pay a bit better - what with it being a government run shindig - but you'd be wrong. Turf wars and salmon runs were luckily enough to fill the gaps, since her usual paycheck left something to be desired. But try as she might, she couldn't understand how the hell Callie and Marie of the motherfucking Squid Sisters couldn't afford to give her a little raise. Like… sure, they weren't technically in charge, and as such, didn't technically have the authority for that. But surely they could put in a good word for her.

That said, it was far too early to be getting herself in a tizzy over her pay grade. Three had all the time in the world to bitch about that, but for now, she should probably check to see if Eight had woken up. She had (at first apprehensively,) agreed to take the Octarian in when it became clear she had nowhere else to go. Her idol friends lead busy lives, after all. They didn't have time to take care of a lost and curious octo-girl. As the weeks went by, Three found herself growing more and more endeared to her fellow agent. Dare she say… maybe a bit _too_ endeared. Like so endeared that her attachment to Eight had long since encroached upon crush territory.

Which sucked by the way.

For so many reasons. For one, Three was too dysfunctional to even consider dragging Eight along with her. That wouldn't be very fair. Second, there was no way Eight felt the same. Why would she? The inkling was many things, but she wasn't a moron. There weren't any reasons for her feelings to be returned. And since she felt confident her affections wouldn't lead anywhere, the feelings only ever caused trouble. She wished she could squash the butterflies in her stomach; squash those fluttery bastards with intense and violent prejudice.

But alas… As anti-social, and awkward and self-hating as Three was, she couldn't help feeling a little lighter and happier around Eight. She couldn't help but stare whenever her peach eyes grew wide in wonder at Inkling society, or when the wind blew her tentacles out of her face. Or whenever the two would turf, how enchanting the octoling looked while she was inking and splatting. Considering how laughably awful most of the people she fought with or against were, it was refreshing to have someone actually competent participating in turf wars with her.

Of course, it was no that Eight had gotten plenty of practice; not just during her time trapped by Kamabo, or that ordeal with the phone, but her time spent serving the Octarian army as well. That fact used to make Three mildly uncomfortable to acknowledge (if only because she's been known to splat loads of Octarian military personnel. It was like… her job, after all,) but soon the notion lost its strange atmosphere, and she found herself actually commending the octoling's old superiors for training such a skilled combatant.

Done being reflective, Three sat up in bed and stretched her tired limbs. Her bed wasn't the most comfortable thing on Earth, but it was adequate enough to provide refreshing sleep. It beat the futon Eight had been relegated to at least. Of course, she'd offered her bed to her guest just as any decent host would. But Eight had been adamant in her refusal. Three would be a liar to say she wasn't a bit glad she'd been able to keep her bed, but she still felt kind of bad about Eight's sleeping arrangement.

And yes, the thought of sharing had crossed her mind several times. But hell to the fuck no. The inkling would implode if she woke to find a cuddly octoling by her side, and she'd rather save herself that embarrassment.

She pulled herself out of bed and fell numbly on her feet. She was still tired, but… the day needed to start eventually. She had planned to go shopping today, and maybe play some turf war should she have time. Peering side-eyed at her clock, the time read 9:36 AM. Yeah, definitely time to get up.

Sighing, and taking one last longing stare at the cozy sheets of her bed, she made her way out into the living room. There she found, unsurprisingly, that Eight was already awake.

Frowning, Three hoped she hadn't been awake for too long. Only a couple days of sharing a home had passed before she found out about the poor girl's nightmares. She'd woken up to the sound of cluttering noise and gasping breath. The inkling wasn't crystal clear about what all happened to Eight up until she found her in that giant blender, but even then, if that fact she'd been put in a giant fucking blender was any indication, the girl had been through a lot.

"Morning," Three spoke up, flinching when the octoling jumped at her sudden appearance.

"O-Oh! Morning Three! Did you uh… did you sleep well?"

Three shrugged sleepily, "I slept alright I guess…" She paused, fixing Eight with a questioning expression, "Did uh… did you?"

She replied with nervous laughter and averted gaze, "Oh y'know… as well as usual, I guess.¨

Not necessarily the answer Three had hoped for but not an answer she was surprised by. "Right well… you want some breakfast or something? I need to leave pretty soon but I could make you some toast? Cereal maybe?"

"Ah…" Eight glanced down at the ground in an uncharacteristically sheepish manner. She drummed her clawed fingertips anxiously against her knee, eyes squinting as though she were lost in thought. And Three, with curiosity, noticed the ink rushing to her cheeks; dusting them in pink blush. "Sure… thank you, Three."

"Er…" Three took a few steps towards Eight, who in turn, flushed an even deeper shade of pink. "You alright there? You look sorta… off? You don't have a fever do you?" Hesitantly and while damning the warmth she felt whenever she got close to her roomate, she raised a hand gingerly to Eight's forehead in order to check her temperature. She felt alright… maybe a teeny tiny bit hot, but nothing concerning. "Well you feel fine so… whatever." Three mumbled something inaudible and turned heel to retreat back into the kitchen. "You want some grub or not? Callie and Marie have my ass booked for the rest of the week, so I really need to run some errands today." Three scowled, then added pissily under her breath, "Damn super idols, getting me to do all their grunt work while they go to fucking interviews and shit motherfuc-"

Contrary to popular belief, Three actually did like the Squid Sisters. Not necessarily their music, - call her a hipster, but she preferred to not listen to mainstream pop garbage - but she did enjoy them as people. Three wasn't an inkling of many friends, but the ones she did have, she'd easily take a bullet for. And, though she acted like they weren't, Callie and Marie were two of her closest friends, and not only did she like their company, but she had a fair bit of respect for them.

"W-well if you need to go… t-that's probably fine. I'll figure something out, but uh… but first I…" Eight wasn't by any stretch of the imagination an eloquent speaker, but she could usually get her thoughts out with relative ease. And why the hell, Three wondered, was she so blushy?

"Eight, for real," Three crossed her arms and leaned into the kitchen counter. Sure, she needed to go shopping but like… something might've been wrong. Curse her caring heart. "You doing okay? Anything bothering you?"

"N-no nothing like that just—"

"You sure?" Three interrupted, unamused though still with a layer of concern deep within her voice, "cause you look like something's bothering you."

"I… I just…"

For the love of Cod, this was starting to grate on Three's patience. "Eight—"

"DO YOU WANT TO GO ON A DATE WITH ME?!"

Dead silence suffocated the room.

What the…? No she hadn't… Had Three heard that right…? No she couldn't have just… there's no way Eight had… Three blinked, her mind struggling to comprehend the words which had left the octling's beak. Her lips pressed tight into a straight line and her baby blue eyes stared unbelieving at the flustered Octarian, who was now, a pile of bumbling apologies, explanations, and ludicrous amounts of ink coloring her face.

"T-three wait that came out… I mean like… Okay so," Eight stuttered for a moment before beginning to slip messily between Octarian, and Inklish. "Like do you wanna go out? or… shit," it was rare for Eight to cuss. Actually… Three had only heard her do so a couple times. Although, according to Maria, the younger agent's language was much more colorful when she spoke in Octarian. Which was interesting to think about but was not at all at the forefront of the inkling's mind.

Eight had asked her… on a date… right?

No she… Damn, Three's wells of insecurities and doubts were beginning to surface. She needed to leave. She couldn't be there any longer; she felt like cursing herself out, or maybe Eight… or maybe crying because she was about to run away from something she'd secretly been yearning for, and something she's wanted forever… No, Three hated crying.

Time to leave.

"A-anyway Eight I gotta go! Aha, you know how it is, a-and I'll get back to you about that later so okay-bye-I-gotta-now-go-see-you-later—!"

At mind boggling speeds, Three bolted out the door and slammed it shut before Eight could get even a word out. Without stopping to think, she super-jumped as far as she could possibly travel in one single leap.

It was actually fairly illegal to super-jump in and out of public spaces, but Three didn't care. It was a fast and convenient means of escape.

Upon landing, she was delighted to find she'd touched down right in the middle of the fucking road because of-fucking-course she did. This is, by the way, exactly why super-jumping in and out of crowded areas wasn't allowed. In court, it could easily be considered reckless endangerment. It was times such as these however that combat experience came in handy, and luckily she was able to dodge oncoming traffic without dying. Wouldn't that have been embarrassing? Super-jumping away from your crush, (your crush who'd just asked you on a date,) into traffic, and getting hit by a coddamned car.

Tumbling out of the road and hitting the concrete with a solid, moderately painful _thud_ , Three growled and seethed silently to herself. The cars she'd jumped in front of hadn't crashed, so that was good. But an extremely angry crustacean was giving her, what she assumed, was their version of 'flipping the bird.' It was hard to tell though, what with the giant claws. Without hesitation, Three gave him her own, proper, middle finger in return.

She didn't really know why, after all, that was totally her own fault. But her mood had suddenly taken a drastic nosedive and the inkling was feeling much less polite than her irritability would allow.

After that, she simply sat motionless in the dirt, watching the cars pass by. She needed a moment to ponder what had just happened. Why did she run? Well… she knew why, but she didn't want to think about it.

She was afraid. And insecure. And more than anything else, surprised. Why would Eight possibly want to go on a date with her? Maybe… maybe she was just confused? Maybe she didn't know what a date was? Three thought better of that theory as soon as it had entered her mind. Eight might've been new to the surface, but she wasn't an idiot. Besides, her behavior just prior to the invitation was anything if not confirmation that yes, she was aware of her own intentions. So why?

Eight was such a sweetheart. She was nice, and polite, and soft spoken and everything Three wasn't. Of course, her roomie had told her before how sweet she was but… The older cephalopod didn't see it. Eight was really pretty, too. Like mind-blowingly so. Three was scrappy and beat up all the time. Her multitude of scars spoke volumes of that. The worst of the worst being the large green-ish one plastering a good third of her face, right where that dumb mind-control goop had stuck itself onto her. She hated her scars. Especially that one. It looked hideous, and whenever she saw it, she was reminded of the disgusting, terrifying feeling of cold slime burning her and sapping away her freewill. It was… well… fairly traumatic…

She was brash, and often acted without thinking. She spoke in such an unflattering manner, she lacked social skills, she didn't like showing her emotions she was… so, very, very, flawed.

Yet Eight, wanted to go on a date with her…

A small part of her even played with the idea that maybe, just maybe, Eight was pulling her leg? See, but unlike a lot of people populating the streets of Inkopolis, Eight wasn't a total bitch.

So no doubt had the octoling not only A) asked her out knowing full well what she was doing, but B) she was more than likely being sincere.

As clear as day as it might've been though, Three just couldn't believe or accept that.

Sighing in defeat, the agent pulled herself off the ground and dusted off. She had nothing better to do than shop, and it had been on her to-do list anyways so… may as well get that done. She knew it'd be awkward when she finally got home, but for now, she opted not to pay that any mind. She'd cross that bridge when she got to it.

And so, feeling confused and irritated and a fair bit upset at nobody but herself, Three made her way to The Plaza.

She missed The Plaza. She'd spent a significant portion of her life living in those parts; The Plaza her main hangout for years and years. She knew it didn't make any sense to detest Inkopolis Square, as she understood her judgement was distorted by nostalgia. But still, whenever she could, she'd make the time to visit her old stomping grounds.

It was significantly less crowded these days. Ever since Callie and Marie stepped down as the resident news anchors, there wasn't much tourist traffic aside from turf wars. And while that alone had kept the place alive for awhile, the rising popularity of Off The Hook sucked in what few loyal inklings the Plaza had retained. It certainly hadn't helped when Sheldon moved business to the Square as well, effectively taking turf wars with him. The old joint was still running, but nowadays it was only for casual players who happened to be passing by.

In all honesty, while perhaps saddening, the lack of crowding was also decently soothing. Three was unsurprisingly, not a fan of crowds.

She made her way slowly to the shops, making sure to take her sweet, sweet time. The longer she shopped, the longer until she needed to go home and…

What was her game plan? Ignore what happened? Explain to Eight that she could do better? Explain that even though she desperately craved companionship, the idea scared the shit out of her and she hates herself too much to give it a shot regardless?

Ugh. Maybe she could just jump into the ocean and die. Yup, that sounded good. That sounded like a pretty ten outta ten course of action. That seemed—

"Yo! Three!"

Snapped from her brooding inner monologue, Three stopped and turned to investigate who or what had called out to her.

Frankly, when she found the culprit, she wasn't sure if she should be annoyed or surprised.

Standing there, in the near abandoned streets of Inkopolis Plaza, were no other than Pearl and Marina of Off The Hook. Now… Three didn't necessarily dislike these two per say, just… it was always weird whenever Eight wasn't there to be the conversational bridge between both parties.

"Oh… uh… hey?"

Pearl smirked, and with a smug, haughty look on her face, she looked around and mused, "Whatcha doin all the way out here, dude? Is Eight with you?"

For some reason, Three felt the inclination to flip both of them off as hard as she'd done the poor lobster from earlier. But she restrained herself. "No," the inkling groaned, "she isn't with me." At this, both Pearl and Marina seemed legitimately surprised. As if they'd been eagerly anticipating a yes. "Moreover, why are you two here? Shouldn't you be at the Square doing… whatever talentless pop stars do?"

Sometimes Three wondered why she was so rude for no reason at all. But more than that, she wondered why everyone always put up with it. Both idols seemed only mildly miffed by the comment, as if a friend had called them by an obnoxious nickname, or like they'd dropped a cracker while trying to eat it. But overall, they seemed completely unphased by the undeserved aggression.

"Actually," Marina began to explain, "we like to come here on our free time to get away from all the attention. We're grateful for our popularity, of course. But it can be a bit stifling."

"I see…"

"Okay but," Pearl stepped in, her eyebrows were raised in timid curiosity, "Eight for reals isn't with you? Did like… did she talk to you this morning or…?"

Okay, Three's gut was picking up on a myriad of red flags. The way the tiny rapper was staring her down, and the way she was asking… it was almost as if...

Three crossed her arms, firmly shooting Pearl an unforgiving and guarded glare. "Why?"

"Woah now, settle your ass down," Pearl took a step back upon receiving Three's murderous glower. Marina however, took a quick step forward; her stance protective and near motherly. "I'm not trying to start shit but now you've got me kinda worried. Did Eight talk to you or not? And cut the bullshit, I'll know if you're lying."

The agent rolled her eyes with hyperbolic exasperation. But she understood (although begrudgingly) that there wasn't much point in lying so… "Yeah. She did."

Both famed celebrities exchanged a sideways glance before turning their attention back on Three. "Was it… anything exciting?" Marina inquired, as though she were being subtle.

So, yeah, it was pretty obvious they both knew about what had happened. Or rather, Three supposed, what was supposed to have happened. And since they obviously knew, she didn't see why they should beat around the bush. "Okay stop," she looked from one girl to the other, appearing as wholly unamused as she possibly could. "I don't know why or how you two are involved, or how responsible you are for the clusterfuck that just happened. But I'm gonna tell you right here and now that me and Eight aren't on a date and we probably won't…" The inkling began to trail off as bitter realization hit her like a splat-bomb, "and we… we probably won't ever go on one… so… yeah."

The range of emotions Pearl and Marina managed to express without words was, to tell the truth, pretty impressive. The feelings Three could pick out included concern, anger, and thoughtfulness. But surely there were others she was simply too inept to understand.

Pearl took a deep breath, then looked towards Marina with a resolute, toothy grin. "Hey babe? Can you give us a minute? I'm kinda on a roll today and I wanna see if I can keep this going."

Marina smirked, both amused and endeared by her partner's determination. "Sure thing, Pearlie. Take your time. I'll be in the shoe store if you need me and…" Her eyes briefly flickered to a dejected and frustrated looking Agent 3. "Tell me… if anything serious happened with her and Eight." Saying all she needed to say, and after pressing a soft yet affectionate kiss to her girlfriend's waiting cheek, Marina left the duo to talk.

Three watched the octoling leave; wanting to pay attention to literally anything other than the expectant silence emanating off the short inkling next to her. She had never tried to talk to Pearl one-on-one and she already knew this was bound to be stupid and awkward. For some reason though, she wasn't able to force her feet to carry her away. She'd typically have little to no issue ditching conversations she didn't care to partake in but… some unseeable force was keeping her in place this time.

"So," Pearl started, taking a quick moment to closely examine Three. "Before I start trying to get to the root of our problem here, I want you to tell me if you did or said anything to hurt Eight's feelings."

"What? No of course I didn—" Well… actually, she wasn't sure. She had left in such a hurry that she hadn't taken the time to check and see how Eight felt about her fleeing the scene. "I… I mean… I… hope not…"

Pearl looked to consider this. She rolled Three's words carefully around in her head, as if analyzing their sincerity. Before long, she let out a soft breath and gave Three a reassuring pat on the back. "Alright man, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt." They made eye contact - something Three wasn't generally fond of - before the idol added both darkly and humorously, "Me and Marina love that kid though, so if you actually like seriously for reals ever hurt her, we'll bury you, got that?"

"Sure…"

The words only managed to be half as threatening as they should've been since Three was sure she could take them both in a fight but… the point got across nonetheless.

"Now then," Pearl put her hands on her hips and smiled wide at her fellow inkling. "I wanna ask what happened and why you're being all sulky and angsty, but first, you probs wanna know what me and Marina have to do with anything, huh?"

Admittedly, yes. She needed to know how pissed she should be at them. "Uh huh."

"Okay well basically the long and short of it is that Eight's been feeling hella fucking gay for you, and was all worried she wasn't good enough or some shit. So I gave her a killer pep talk and told her to go for it." Pearl paused, biting her lip hesitantly. "I take it that didn't go great, huh?"

That's…

Three didn't know if she wanted to die laughing or strangle an unborn child. _Eight_ , sweet, perfect, beautiful Agent 8… didn't think _she_ was good enough for _Three_? What? That was absurd.

When Three didn't respond, Pearl decided to prompt the agent into saying something. "Why don't you tell me what went down, kay?"

She had literally nothing to lose. Though Three despised these sorts of conversations, for some reason unbeknownst to her, she felt compelled to share with Pearl the day's happenings. "Sure I guess… Ummm… shit so…" Three sighed, and shuffled her feet against the rocky asphalt on which she stood, "Basically Eight was acting super weird and I thought maybe she was sick or some shit? But then she asked me on a date and like… I know what that means, but I can't make myself understand it, y'know? Anyway, then I ran like the stupid asshole I am, super-jumped away and nearly got killed by traffic. So today's been fantastic."

Pearl studied Three silently for an unnerving period of time. Seconds passed wherein the pop star just sat there staring at her with an unreadable look on her face. Just as Three was getting ready to ask what the fuck she was staring at, Pearl tilted her head to the side, much like a confused dog. "And can I ask why you decided to run?"

"I don't know!?" Three flushed with an interesting concoction of embarrassment and rage. Why was she like this? She could've at least let Eight say what she wanted to say. But no, she had to turn around and run away. Cod she was pathetic.

"I think I know why," Pearl informed with a self-satisfied tone of voice. Her smile was so shit-eating that Three was shocked the entire Plaza couldn't smell her breath. "I think you're scared."

Well no dip, Pearl. Why else do people flee in unflattering terror? Thanks Sherlock, you've cracked the caper!

"Whaaaat?" Three's sarcasm was deadly; it was sharp and sour, and would likely leave a sweet, elderly woman in tears. Not that she would dare use her weaponized derision against a poor, defenseless old lady. She wasn't a monster. "Reeeally? Cod damn, if only I'd figured that out myself! Fuck, you really have me pegged."

"Okay, smartass," the older inkling scoffed. Though she seemed more amused than offended. "Tell me why you're being such a baby then."

The agent groaned with exaggerated anguish and dug her fingers into her temples. Thank the stars she hadn't unsheathed her claws, because she would've definitely broken some skin. "I don't know…" was all she managed to get out between grit teeth. She noted though, with hefty shame, that she had needed to force a whimper out of her voice.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Pearl's face became something so serious, so out of character, so purposive, that Three wasn't sure if she'd imagined it. "Bullshit, you know exactly why. It's cause you're worried you're not good enough, just like Eight was. It's cause you don't want to cause her trouble, and are too caught up with your own angsty, self-deprecating crap to see that the girl is so obviously in love with you. Like for real yo? Eight fucking adores you, and anyone with any semblance of sense can see you like her too so just…" Pearl bit the inside of her cheek in a feeble attempt to get herself to stop talking. This was sensitive subject matter, after all. "Just… go talk to her, man."

Huh that was… not what Three had expected to hear from the notoriously silly and immature young rapper. "Woah…" The agent's cheeks colored over with green blush, and she was unable to stop Pearl's surprising words of encouragement from replaying a couple dozen more times within her head. "I… Shit…" When was the last time someone had been so unashamedly supportive of her? Well there was Eight of course…

"Hey," Pearl tapped Three on the shoulder and gave her a playful, yet incredibly warm and sincere smirk, "I promise you're not as awful as you think you are. Like… you're kind of an asshole, but hey, so am I!" She giggled, allowing her golden eyes to drift longingly towards to the shoe store wherein her beloved girlfriend had gone off to. "And even so, Marina loves me, y'know? Maybe we actually do suck, and maybe octolings just have really low standards but…" She chuckled light heartedly and bumped Three's shoulder once more, "I like to think that ain't the case."

Had Pearl always had her head so squarely on her shoulders? For some reason, Three hadn't thought so… and… wait a minute…

The inkling touched a hand to her face and—

Damn it. She was was crying. She hated crying.

Ashamed, Three turned her head and started to dab away the unwanted droplets which leaked disobediently from her eyes.

"Aww, you're such a baby," Pearl teased.

"S-shut the fuck up."

Then, as if Pearl hadn't surprised her enough these past few minutes, Three felt herself being pulled into a quick hug. Her first instinct was to pull away, to ask Pearl what she thought she was doing, to disregard any and all affection given to her by others but… she just… couldn't. Three was the kind of person to clam up when hugged or spoken to by others. Especially people she didn't know very well, (such as Pearl,) but this was… surprisingly not terrible. So much so, that when the MC pulled away, Three almost wished it had lasted longer. Almost.

"Alright," Pearl got Three's attention with a small and cheerful voice, "go talk to Eight. I'll shoot her a text and tell her you're on your way."

"W-wait but—"

"No buts!" Pearl whipped out her phone and gave the agent an eager thumbs up, "Go talk to Eight before me and Marina tag team your ass, okay? And like… let us know how it goes."

She started typing, what Three could only assume, was a heads up to Eight about Three's imminent arrival. Encouraging pep talks aside, Three kind of felt like throwing up. Was she actually about to…? No she couldn't possibly…

"Dude, get outta here before the bad thoughts convince you not to, you silly asshole." Pearl had to be a psychic, Three firmly decided.

"O-okay… Just… okay… fuck," She was actually going to do this, wasn't she?

"And Three," Pearl called out, "don't be a stranger, okay? You seem pretty rad, and if this goes well, you'd better believe we're hanging out more. I'm not gonna be your wingman if I can't also be your bro."

Three would never admit it but… she kinda… maybe… sorta… liked the sound of that.

Nodding softly in affirmation, Three turned to leave. She could do her shopping some other time. Or… well no, actually, she couldn't. As said, she'd be busy for the rest of the week… but this was important damn it!

Looking over her shoulder only to briefly wave her unexpected savior goodbye, Three quickly began to jog to the nearest train station.

Had you told her yesterday, that today, she'd be asked out by Eight, nearly hit by a car, allow herself to cry in front of Pearl, then actually have the courage to go accept Eight's invite, she wouldn't have believed it. Yesterday, her crush on Eight was nothing more than distant and inconvenient wishful thinking.

But now… she thought, for a moment of hope and wonderful joyousness, that perhaps she had a chance after all.


	3. Today

You know… Pep talks are scary things. After receiving a damn good one, you're ready to make the world your oyster. You feel confident about life's trials and tribulations. But then the high wears off and suddenly you're standing in front of your apartment door for five minutes straight wondering if it's actually a good idea to go inside or not.

This was the situation Three found herself in. Boy, was she getting tired of staring at her apartment door. Pearl had instilled some mysterious sense of purpose within her for a short period of time. But it was all too temporary. She'd have to ask Marina what other secret superpowers the tiny diva wielded, because no way was that spurt of determination anything other than supernatural intervention.

Despite all that however, something prevented Three from turning around and walking away. Sure, this was like, her house. She'd need to come back eventually. But that's not what compelled her to stay. She could always come back later. Hell, procrastination was practically her middle name. But no, that wasn't quite it. Stubborn pride, perhaps? Nah, she lost that when she decided to super-jump away from her problems. Sure, she hadn't been expecting Eight ask her out but… she literally fucking super-jumped away. Overzealous much?

Whatever the case, Three couldn't just up and leave. Especially not assuming Eight had received text confirmation of her impending arrival.

Her hand hovered nervously over the old, bronze door knob to her home. Well… Fuck it, right?

That's a good motto, Three thought.

Fuck it indeed.

She opened the door with all the delicacy of a brain surgeon in the throes of an operation. She hadn't actually sorted out what she wanted to say, so she was giving herself a tremendous benefit of the doubt; trusting her socially inept brain to pull itself out of her ass long enough to hold a conversation like an adult.

 _I can do this_ , Three repeated to herself over and over like a sacred mantra. Though the words lost some of their meaning the moment she lost her damn footing.

Yeah, she'd just set foot in the apartment, and already she had managed to trip over absolutely nothing at all, and she damn near combined her face with the hard unforgiving floors below. Almost, if not for a certain octo-girl being there to catch her fall.

"Woooah—! W-wow okay… Three?"

Unbeknownst to the bumbling agent, Eight had apparently been waiting right by the door for her. Which was something to both thank the stars and to curse the heavens for. On one hand, Three still had an intact face. So that was cool. But on the other, she was now being cradled by Eight much like a dancer being dipped by her partner.

Eight was - perhaps unsurprisingly - pretty strong. She had been a member of the Octarian military after all. And on top of that, had gone through that DeepSea Metro nonsense who knows how long. It was unfortunate that the girl had lived such a rough life, but dang if it didn't show in those arms.

Three's face was promptly engulfed by a green hellfire-ish blush. The very minute she steps into the apartment, she trips like a klutzy fool before even getting a word out. The icing on the cake was literally falling right into Eight's arms, which she then proceeded to admire in a very non heterosexual way.

"A-AH! Sorry, shoot I uh…" The inkling scrambled messily away from her roomate, friend, and crush. "Wow I'm uh… I-I'm pretty clumsy today, huh? Ha… uh, anyways Eight, what's up?" A crooked smile fell oddly upon her lips. Her fangs, which might usually be bared in annoyance, anger, or perhaps a smile on a better day, now flashed with an uncomfortable grimace while her brain committed seppuku.

"I… am okay? Are you?"

"Great! I have never been better anyway how are you?"

Oh for the love of…she was just… so awkward.

But despite the embarrassing display set before her, Eight only giggled in light hearted amusement. She was neither judgmental nor condescending. "Like I said, I'm okay." But then, the octo-girl paused for a moment, her peach eyes studied the elder agent thoughtfully. "S-so…" She began, her demeanor immediately changing to something Three couldn't place, "Pearl uh… told me she ran into you. Well I mean, she was pretty vague about the whole thing b-but… she said you… wanted to talk?"

Okay, so they were just cutting straight to the chase, huh? "Yeah… something like that."

The inkling's feet scuffed across the ground, and her thumbs twiddled around each other in an attempt to rid herself of the jitters.

"Before you start," Eight offered, "just uh… sorry about earlier… I shouldn't have sprung that on you all of a sudden."

"What? No, you haven't got anything to apologize for." Three's cheeks held onto their bashful green tinge, "Actually… I wanted to say sorry… for bolting like that. I'm just… reeeeally shit at this sorta thing."

The younger girl smirked, taunting giggle just barely contained. "Yeah," she shrugged, "I noticed." Her voice wasn't mocking, though; she was casual and honest, it was just a simple observation. "I think… it's kinda endearing though? Or… I don't know…"

"Oh. Really?" Three crossed her arms and continued her antsy fidgeting, fingers drumming idly against the fabric of her sleeves.

Eight nodded enthusiastically. The way in which she carried herself was always so energetic and peppy. You could easily tell what she was feeling by looking at her. The tentacles atop her head swayed as her head bounced up and down. "Y-yeah! For sure. I… think you're a delightful inkling."

"I…" Three wasn't sure how to respond to that. When was the last time someone had said she was delightful? Or anything to that effect? Pearl said she seemed "pretty rad," but that wasn't really the same. Plenty of people thought she wasn't unbearable, and though Three couldn't bring herself to comprehend that either; it was more understandable than unabashedly thinking she was _delightful_. "I… could say the same about you." She mumbled. Her eyes flicked to the side, determined not to meet Eight's own deep and inviting stare.

"Aww Three, you're too sweet. Is that a blush I see?"

"WHA—NO!" Three's eyes narrowed dangerously and quite nearly hissed like a feral cat. "I've no idea what you're talking about."

"OH I GET IT!" Eight shouted, face lighting up in joyous revelation, "You're like that thing Pearl told me about! From those weird animations! Er… a… you're a tsundeer?"

"A… tsundere?"

Yeah, so maybe Three watched anime sometimes. What of it? She was still an aloof Heroshot wielding badass, and _she could take you the fuck out._

"Yeah that!"

"No I'm fucking not, shut up."

"Whatever you say, Three." Eight nudged her roomie playfully in the side. The elder agent breathed a quiet, comfortable sigh. Thank Zapfish they were still able to joke and tease one another; this meant that all hope wasn't lost. Now, Three had a decision to make. Should she ask if the invite was still open or wait to see if Eight brought it up herself?

She might've given the wrong impression by running away. Eight could've taken it as rejection and, to be fair, who wouldn't take literally fleeing the scene as rejection? If that were the case it'd probably be best for Three to say something first. But then again… what if Eight hadn't said anything yet on purpose? Like, sure, she apologized and all. But that isn't necessarily affirming that a date is still on the table. Pearl had been pretty clear to explain that Eight had some feelings for the inkling but like… What if she was wrong? What if—

Three's swirling whirlpool of self doubt and second guessing was stilled by a warm, soft sensation on her cheek. It was over as soon as it had started, and left a pleasant tingle in its wake.

Had Eight just…?

The inkling flushed with bright and intense blush, but was far too surprised to formulate any sort of coherent sentence. The only thing the poor girl could manage was to stare at Eight with wide, unbelieving eyes. And it was written clear as day on the octoling's face that she was just as surprised at herself as Three was. So… yes, she had just done that.

"S-sorry!" She sputtered apologetically, "I don't know why I did that! You were just too cute not to kiss y'know? I-I-I mean, yeah I should've like, asked or something but… damn, I'm sorry, er, I'll just go over here now, sorry agai-"

Well… as they say, _fuck it_. It was Three's turn render her roomate speechless.

Taking a deep breath, quickly dispelling any and all lingering uncertainties, and damning whatever consequences the action may bring, Three shut her eyes. Without stopping to think, she leaned forward and pressed a quick peck to Eight's blubbering lips.

It felt absolutely amazing, for how short it lasted. But the only thing running through Three's mind after she'd done it was a frantic string of _'shit shit shit shit shit shit…'_

However, while it had been an impossibly quick kiss; Eight didn't care. If the equal part shocked and amazed smile she wore was a good indicator, she had appreciated the gesture immensely. Of course, this went unnoticed by Three who was too busy freaking herself out to pay attention to the world around her.

When the anxious young squid took a step back, she couldn't bring herself to say anything. She waited with thick and uneasy silence for Eight's response; set and ready to repeat this morning should her actions yield unsavory results. However, and to the delight of both cephalopods, the only thing that happened next was Eight throwing herself at Three, effectively ensnaring her in an inescapable Octarian hug.

The inkling choked, breathing hindered by the intense embrace. But hell if she'd do anything to stop it. Her bad thoughts were immediately extinguished by the loving, cheery hold she was now trapped by. That said, everything was moving way too fast for Three's dumb little brain to keep up with and she was unconvinced this wasn't all dream.

Or like… maybe she actually had been hit by a car earlier and this was all a coma dream. Or hey, maybe she was in heaven. If heaven wasn't a warm and affectionate glomp from Eight then she didn't want it.

Who was she kidding? Three probably wasn't getting into heaven. Definitely a coma dream.

"Ummmm… heellooo? Earth to Agent 3?"

"Huh? What?" Still caught in Eight's strong arms, Three blinked confusedly and looked up at the lovely octo-girl calling her name. "What's up?"

"Heh, you spaced out you dork." She chuckled and gave Three a cute little boop on the nose. "I was asking if uh… this possibly meant you'd wanna go out some time?"

"I…" Three opened and closed her mouth, looking for the words to describe what she was feeling. Her gaze landed on Eight's hopeful face. This… was happening, wasn't it? She had two options set before her and she knew which she wanted to go with. Quickly, before the bad thoughts came back to ruin everything, "S-sure. Why the hell not?"

"REALLY?"

Eight looked ready to fly through the roof, she was so excited.

"Yup, really. Uh… later today?"

"YES! Absolutely today! It's a date!" Eight finally released Three from captivity, and turned to rush away to her bedroom; but not before turning back to Three, delivering a followup peck on the lips. Giddy as an octopus could ever be, Eight pranced into the other room announcing happily that she was going to pick an outfit.

Three in turn, stood there smiling after her. Well... that was a thing. just happened? She was tempted to pinch herself just to make extra special sure she wasn't dreaming but… The fluttering in her chest was far too potent not to be real.

What to do now? Pick out an outfit? Three wasn't the type to get all fancy and prepped. But at the very least she could take a shower and change. Maybe contact Pearl and promise to buy every Off The Hook album as thanks? Hm… she wasn't sure. She'd figure it out though.

It all felt surreal. She had a date today. A date with none other than Agent 8.

She had a date with Eight, her gorgeous, kind hearted, adorable, funny, close friend, and crush— her mutual crush apparently.

Today was the best day of her life.

This all felt like some sort of accident. The day had gotten off the a particularly rocky start, but still, everything seemed to turn out alright. Even though life had the habit of putting her against the odds, even though she stumbled and fell more often than not, today had proven thus far a winner. Accident or no, it was a very happy thing. There was a word for that… but she couldn't quite remember what it was…

Oh well, who cares? She had a date to get ready for.


End file.
